IsisSumana Academy: Book 1 Savannah
by Serina
Summary: The school was meant for the wealthy, the rich, the unwanted. Children were sent off to this esteemed school not only to make them acceptable in the eye of society, but, in some cases, to keep secrets from their children.(A miniseries, like Orphans ect.)


Isis-Sumana Academy

Book I Savannah

Summary- The school was meant for the wealthy, the rich, the unwanted. Rich couples sent their children off to this esteemed school not only to make them acceptable in the eye of society, but also to get them out of the way so that the couples could live their lives with out the bothersome eyes of their children. A miniseries not unlike Wildflowers, Orphans, Shooting Stars.

One year, four girls, all from rich and respected families arrive at the school and become quick friends. The four girls try to stick together so that they can survive their experience at Isis-Sumana, but they soon discover that they are sent to this school only so that their families can keep secrets hidden from them. If these four girls work together, can they find the truth hidden behind all the lies from each girls past? Or worse, what will happen if they do? 

Savannah 

Chapter 1

I understood at a very young age that I was to be on my best behavior when out in public. I, after all, was a Whitmore, and a Whitmore was always well behaved. I always minded my mother and my nanny and never screamed or begged for anything. Not that I ever had to. All I did was ask for something one time, and it was given to me. There is only one time in my entire life where I can remember asking for something, and not getting it. It was a dog. When I was nine-years-old one of my friends got a cocker spaniel puppy for her birthday and I was green with envy. I hurried home and asked Nettie, my nanny, if I could get a puppy of my own. She told me I would have to ask my father, but not to get my hopes up. I didn't really understand this, how would I? I had never been denied anything I desired before. So that night, I knocked on my father's office. He was fairly busy, that much I knew. He was working on a very important case that he needed to win. Of course my father had to win all of his cases, or else he wouldn't consider himself one of the top lawyers in all of Pennsylvania. Anyway, he told me to enter and I did so. I walked to his desk and stood in front of it. He was on the phone. He continued his conversation for several minutes while I stood patiently waiting for him to finish. I heard what he was saying, but didn't understand much, so I remembered very little. I wanted to ask him to stop talking so he could let me have my puppy, but I knew that wouldn't be good behavior, and a Whitmore was always well behaved. So I waited. The call went on for at least ten minutes after I entered the room, but I didn't even flinch. When my father finally hung up the phone, he looked down at me and smiled.

"How are you my flaming angel?" 

"Fine." I answered politely, resisting the urge to giggle. Giggling was for little girls and I was nine now and much to old for giggling. My father always called me his flaming angel because I had red hair. Though perhaps flaming was a misused term. My hair was indeed red, but it was a dull red, a faded almost near rusted brown color. I always hated my hair, but my father always made me feel better about it, especially when he called me his flaming angel. The angel part was because in my youth, I had a chubby cherub-type face that he said reminded him of an angel. I had olive green eyes that sparkled, and a surprisingly good skin tone for someone with red hair. But then again, it wasn't a vibrant red. 

"So what can I do for you?" My father asked me. He said it like he was conducting one of his meetings, like I was one of his clients that came in to ask for his assistance. The specialness of the title, flaming angel, was instantly erased when he addressed me this way. I stepped forward.

"Father," I had long stopped calling him Daddy. 'Daddy' was much too childish for such an adult young lady like me. "I was wondering if I could have a puppy?" I awaited his approval, but instead received the biggest shock of my short life.

"No Savannah I'm sorry, you cannot." He looked back down at his documents and began sifting through them, a sign our discussion was over, but I did not move. I didn't understand. I had never been refused anything before. Why would it start now? I cleared my throat.

"Excuse me Father." He looked up, surprised that I was still there. 

"Was there something else Savannah?"

"No. I was just wondering why."

"Why what?" He asked looking puzzled. It was as if he had forgotten what had just happened not even thirty seconds before.

"Why can't I have a dog?" He frowned at me, as if he was upset I was questioning him, then he seemed to realize that I was confused.

"I suppose that is a fair question. I guess you wouldn't understand, I suppose you are a bit spoiled, but then that is how it should be. All children should be spoiled by their parents and given things to make their childhood enjoyable. But you cannot have a dog. Dogs are messy and destructive. We have to many fine things to have a dog tromping about the house. Dogs chew up furniture, pee on carpets, and leave houses smelling foul. Now does that sound like something a Whitmore wants any part of?" I immediately shook my head.

"No Father." He nodded, his perfectly rich chocolate brown hair shifting slightly in front of his brown eyes. My father was a very good-looking man. I was never told how old he or Mother was, and I never dared asked. My mother was absolutely gorgeous. She was thin, with a perfect figure and real red hair, flaming to the roots. She was never pale, and had exactly three freckles on each cheek. Her green eyes were always lit with happiness whenever I managed to see her. This was usually at parties. That was actually the only time I saw my parents together. My mother was always out socializing with other rich wives, shopping or gossiping about the wives that were not present. My father of course was usually busy with his cases. My parents were invited to all the important parties, and tried to attend them all. When I was older I was allowed to accompany them. It was at these parties that I saw my parents the most. They seemed happy, yet apparently fake, just trying to impress whomever they where dining with that evening. I was raised by my nanny, Netty, who saw to my every need. Our impressive mansion was always filled with servants, and maids who would obey anything I told them to do. But I rarely asked anything unexpected of them. I was an only child, and was only allowed to play with other children when wealthy respected people came over and brought their own children, or I went with my mother to their homes. I never complained about this, I had every toy a girl could want. I was never lonely; at least I never thought I was. Until I saw my friend get her puppy. She too had been an only child and the joy of receiving that puppy made me realize that perhaps toys and casual friends weren't enough. But as I listened to my father's rational explanation as to why I could not have a dog, I was no longer jealous of my friend. In fact, I pitied her. Soon her lovely homed would be ruined by her new puppy and her parents would be upset with her. She most likely would end up giving the dog away, or neglecting to take care of it when she tired of the thing. 

"Do you understand Savannah?" My father asked me.

"Yes Father, I do." He smiled.

" I knew you would. You may be spoiled, but at least you're smart and sensible. That is what's so good about you Savannah. I have confidence that you will become a fine young lady and marry a very respectable man who will not only be impressed by your looks, but also you brain. That's very important Savannah. You should be sure to find a man that respects you. All right?"

"Yes Father." 

"Good girl. Now run along and play. I have to finish up." With out another word, he picked up the phone and dialed someone's number. I turned and left the room, disappointed with my first denial, but understanding of it too. Besides, what was I to do? Complain to Mother? No, Whitmores never complained about childish things like owning pets. I returned to my room and turned on my television set. What did I need a dog for anyway, I had everything a girl could want, didn't I?

When I turned fourteen, my father announced that he would be firing Nettie and hiring me a personal maid. He didn't actually tell me this; he sent one of the servants to tell me. I was upset, but didn't cry. I planned a meeting with my father for that night. I told the servant that I wanted to meet with my father at his convenience, that night if possible. The servant nodded and was gone. Nearly an hour later he found me in the ballroom where I was practicing my piano lessons and told me my father would meet with me that night at 8:35. I didn't even consider the fact that I had to arrange a time to talk to my father like a client, as being strange or unusual. I had been doing for several years, and had long been used to it. At precisely 8:35 that night, I knocked on his office door.

"On time as usual Savannah, that's very good. No one likes it when someone arrives late." My father greeted me as I entered the office.

"Mother says that being late is the sensible thing to do." I said softly. It was more of a thought that accidentally slipped out of my mouth then a retort. I instantly regretted saying it. I wanted to take it back, but as I would learn later in life, you can never take back your words. My father scowled at me.

"Yes, I know that's what your mother thinks. She insists that we arrive at least a half an hour after the beginning time of every party we attend. It drives me mad; people who arrive late are rude and inconsiderate of other people's time and schedule. I don't want you to be late Savannah, but you never are. That's good. Polite people always arrive on time." Ever since I could remember, whenever I went to see my father, no matter what I wanted, I also ended up getting a lesson on the way to act in society, or the way to behave so that society would accept you, or how to be a good Whitmore. I didn't mind it much, after all, if I wasn't taught how to behave, how would I know. I would probably make a mistake and then my father would never respect me again. I didn't realize then how much I counted on my father's respect. "What was it you needed Savannah?" My father finally asked me after he was finished with his lecture on being polite and respectful.

"I was told your ending Nettie's services." My father frowned.

"Who's Nettie?"

"My nanny." 

"Oh yes, her. Well you don't need a nanny anymore do you?"

"No, of course not." I answered quickly. "But perhaps she could stay on as my maid." I suggested. My father shrugged. 

"The woman is meant to be a nanny. I suspect she wants to nanny again, you know, get another charge. But if you wish for her to be your maid, then speak to her. Inform me of the results of the conversation as soon as you can. I have to set up interviews if I need to hire, and I need to take time out of my schedule to do it."

"You'll be hiring yourself?" I asked, surprised. Usually he had Quincy hire new servants or maids. He was the butler; otherwise know as the head servant. Father nodded.

"Yes of course, Quincy is fine at hiring people for cleaning and cooking, but your personal assistant has to have specific qualities that I only trust myself to find. I hired your nanny you know."

"Really? I always thought Mother had." I said softly. My father laughed.

"Georgia, hire someone?" He laughed again. "She's never hired anyone in her life. She wouldn't know the first thing about it. Your mother is good at what she does." I frowned, but Mother didn't _do_ anything. "She's a good lawyer's wife." My father answered my unasked question. The conversation ended when my father began to go through his papers again, and I left to find Nettie. I found her in the maid's quarters, and to my surprise she was packing. 

"Nettie, you don't have to do that. I spoke to Father and he's agreed to let you stay on. You'll have to be my maid, but it's basically the same duties as being my nanny." She sighed. 

"I haven't been a nanny for a long time Miss Savannah." I was worried.  She usually called my 'Miss Savannah' when she was upset with me.

"Is something wrong Nettie? I haven't misbehaved, have I?" She laughed, but it was a dry harsh laugh.

"Oh no Miss Savannah. You haven't misbehaved. You never do. When I said I don't nanny, I only meant you haven't needed me for a very long time. You grew up very fast Miss Savannah."

"Nettie, please stop calling me Miss Savannah it's a bit startling.  Besides, I still need you."

"What for? Your new maid can do everything I do for you. Besides, I need to be around I child again, perhaps I'll do better this time around." My eyes widened. 

"Nettie what are you saying? That I'm a failure?" I was astounded. Never had Nettie spoken to me this way.

"No Mi…Savannah. It's just…" She hesitated.

"Go on." I urged.

"I tried to teach you things, but I don't think I've succeeded." I frowned.

"What do you mean? You taught me to read and write. Is that…"

"No. I tried to teach you to ignore society, to be your own person." I laughed.

"Ignore society? But Nettie, that's impossible. You can't ignore society; it's all around you. Besides, what would people say?" She sighed.

"This is just what I mean. Savannah, you should live your life the way you want to, not the way society tells you to live it. You don't always have to care what people think about you. If someone says something that you disagree with, you should say so right then and there. Not to their backs with other spoiled women."

"But Nettie, disagreeing is disrespectful. Whitmores are never disrespectful." I reminded her. She looked at me with such pity, it almost scared me. No one had ever pitied me before, yet her look was an unmistakable one of pity and disproval. 

"I fear it's too late for you Savannah. You are lost to your parents and to the bowels of society.  I tried my best, but apparently, it wasn't good enough."  She shook her head with a sigh.  Then she turned back to her suitcase and placed the blouse she was holding inside of it. "Will you be needing anything else tonight?" She added with her back still to me.  I was incredibly offended. Here I had gone to my father to keep her on the staff, and she relentlessly insulted me, and for what? Doing as I was told? Being an obedient child? If that's the way she wanted to behave then I was glad she was leaving.

"I hope you find a child that doesn't bring you such disappointment Nettie." I said harshly. "Good luck." I turned sharply and stalked away as best I could with out making a spectacle of myself.

"Savannah!" She called after me, but I didn't respond. I left the maid's quarters and returned to my own room. After trying to calm myself down, after all, no one likes a lady who is fuming, I left my room and ordered the closest servant to go to my father and tell him that I would indeed be needing a new maid. He hurried off and I returned to my room, considerably calmer. After all, perhaps Nettie just didn't understand. She wasn't raised with the same demands that I was. I willing accepted the demands so I could be a good Whitmore and not disappoint my father.

Nettie was gone by the next evening, and I managed to avoid her the entire day. I watched her get into the cab and leave. She looked sadly up at my window, and saw me watching her.  She smiled weakly, and gave a small wave. I didn't respond. Her smile instantly diminished into the old look for sorrow.  With out looking at my window again, she got into the cab, and it drove away. I didn't even say good-bye to the person who had raised me, and what was worse, I didn't even care. 

My personal maid was hired by the end of the week. Her name was Zorrah. Zorrah was obedient and nice enough. She seemed to be afraid of my father, and in turn afraid of angering me, for fear I would run to tell him. This was somewhat distracting, especially when I was picking out outfits. Nettie always gave me her honest opinion, but Zorrah said everything I picked was fantastic, even though I knew it was impossible for one person to think all those outfits were that amazing. I learned to deal with it, as I learn to deal with everything, with patients, and with out complaints. With the departure of my nanny, went the departure of my childhood, though it really had left a long time ago, and I hadn't even realized it. A week after Zorrah arrived, my parents allowed me to attend my first party at one of their wealthy acquaintance's home. From that day on, I went to every party my parents did. It was a great way to become aquatinted with the wealthy members of Pennsylvania. I was glad to be rid of my childhood; after all, adults were more respected, as were the wealthy.


End file.
